Loki's Sword

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Loki's Sword Page 25

by Malcolm Archibald


  Bradan felt something shift; it was a movement like physical pain, a jolt that came from inside him. “Astrid; I have never met a woman like you.”

  Astrid gave a gentle smile. “We are a rare breed, you and I. We are from this world, yet not of it. That is why you wander, Bradan, and why I seek as much learning and knowledge as a woman can obtain.”

  For some reason, Bradan felt suddenly weak, as if something was draining the strength from his body.

  “Could you imagine us together, Bradan, you and me, travelling side by side?”

  Astrid's words helped Bradan create images in his mind. He thought of the two of them in the ancient centres of civilisation, exchanging knowledge from the Druids and Christian monks and the scholars of the East.

  “Yes, I can,” Bradan said, honestly.

  “Did Melcorka accompany you to the scholars on your adventures?”

  Bradan shook his head. “No. She did not.”

  “Ah.” Astrid said no more. She lifted her hand. “Listen; I think they've gone. We can leave now.” She looked at Bradan. “We can go on and search for Melcorka, or you and I can get out of this hellish place.”

  For the first time, Bradan felt tempted to leave Melcorka. He looked at Astrid, a spirited, intelligent woman who shared his interests in travelling and gathering knowledge and compared her to his image of Melcorka splashing through the carnage of Carham.

  “I am not sure,” Bradan said. “Dear God, I am not sure.”

  “There is no rush,” Astrid said softly.

  Bradan took a deep breath. “We search for Melcorka,” he said, lifting his head. “I cannot leave her alone.”

  “You are a loyal man,” Astrid said. “And that is another trait that I admire.”

  They left that chamber, ignored the lair of the dragon and climbed upwards, frequently stopping to listen, hearing only the distant drift of conversation, the batter of the waves and the occasional cries of cats. The stairs led to a short torchlit corridor, which in turn ended abruptly at a massive chamber, hewn from the rock. Bradan stood in the entrance, keeping to the shadows.

  “There's the man himself,” Astrid said. “The Lord of Dun Dreggan.” She flattened her voice. “Also known as Moruir Chat, the Great Man of the Cats.”

  Torches flared and spat along the length of one wall, while beneath it sat or lounged a collection of men. Bradan saw their cat-skin cloaks and the short stabbing spears most carried, the longswords of a few, wondered if they were Norse, Albans or Picts and turned his attention to the man who sat at the head of the room.

  He was huge. Nearer seven feet tall than six, he was wide-shouldered and slim- waisted. Added to his size was the face of a cat that stared down at the others in the chamber.

  “He's a giant,” Bradan said. “I've never seen a giant before, and never a giant with the face of a cat.”

  “A giant, indeed. This castle is a place of horrors.” Astrid's hand crept to Bradan, holding his arm.

  Keeping in the shadows, Bradan studied the Great Man of the Cats. Was this the man who opened the Book of Dark Earth to release the Cu-saeng? Was this the leader of a band of Norse raiders? Or was this somebody or something else? Was this the Cu-saeng?

  “Melcorka is not here,” Bradan said. “If she were, there would be blood and fur on the ground, and the Great Man would have his tail trimmed.”

  Astrid nodded. “We move on, then.” Withdrawing from the chamber, they heard scurrying feet and shrank into the shadows. A dozen women passed, all in dark clothes and with the ears of cats attached to their heads. Leading them was a man Bradan recognised at once.

  “Chattan,” Bradan said.

  “What's that he's carrying?” Astrid asked, nodding to the long bundle in Chattan's arms.

  “A sword,” Bradan said. As he looked, the covering slipped off, revealing the hilt. Bradan shivered. “That's Defender. Melcorka's sword. So where is Melcorka?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “If that is Melcorka's sword, where is Melcorka?” Bradan repeated.

  “Would she willingly part with her sword?” Astrid watched as Chattan and the women strode along the corridor.

  Bradan shook his head. “No.”

  “Then she is dead.” Astrid said.

  “No.” Bradan said. “Melcorka is not dead.”

  “Nobody is invulnerable,” Astrid said. “For every warrior, there is somebody faster, more skilful or luckier.”

  “I want to find Melcorka.” Bradan said.

  “You might not even find her body,” Astrid said. “I think we should retrieve Melcorka's sword. If it is as powerful as I've heard, it will help us get out of here.”

  Bradan watched as Chattan carried the sword away, with his women clustered around him. “We'll follow Chattan. If we are lucky, he may tell us where Melcorka is.”

  They had not far to go before Chattan stopped at a low wooden door. He fiddled inside his cloak for a key, opened the door and disappeared inside, to reappear a few moments later without the sword.

  “Wait until they've gone,” Bradan said. “We know which direction Melcorka is in, anyway.”

  “What?” Astrid looked puzzled. “How do we know that?”

  “She will be in the direction from where Chattan came.” Bradan had taken control. “We'll try that way first.”

  Glancing at the door where Defender was, Astrid hesitated. “We'd be better with a weapon.”

  “You pick the lock, then,” Bradan said. “I'll find Melcorka.” He strode on without waiting for Astrid, who followed a few moments later.

  “The door is securely locked.”

  “Don't you have a spell to open it?” Bradan asked as his worry for Melcorka overcame his growing affection for Astrid.

  “I'm not a witch,” Astrid said.

  “I know.” Bradan was immediately contrite. “That was a cruel thing to say. I'm sorry.”

  They were in a maze of corridors and passages, with strange smells and sounds.

  “Cenel Bearnas!”

  The words rang out from beneath them, echoing in the narrow passage.

  “That's Melcorka!” Bradan raised his voice. “Melcorka!”

  “Cenel Bearnas!” Melcorka's family war cry rang louder as Bradan ran towards the sound. Although he was a man of peace, with no weapon except his staff, he crashed open the door of the chamber where he heard Melcorka's shout.

  “Melcorka!”

  When Bradan burst in, he saw half a dozen cat-women holding Melcorka on the edge of a pit. Bradan saw little else as more women looked around, some with the hideous hooked claws attached to their hands, all wearing cloaks with cat-eared hoods. “I'm here, Melcorka!” Swinging his staff, Bradan knocked two of the women backwards, thrust at another and pulled Melcorka back from the lip of the pit.

  “I thought you were dead!” Melcorka wrestled a woman to the ground with a move she had learned in the Chola Empire.

  “I'm not.” Bradan cracked another woman on the head with his staff. “Astrid saved me. She's around somewhere.”

  “Back to back!” Melcorka ordered. “Make for the door.” She grinned at Bradan. “It looks like it's just you and me, Bradan!”

  “That's as it should be!” Bradan grunted as a woman landed a shrewd kick in his stomach, winced as a set of claws opened up a wound in his left arm and thrust his staff against a woman's throat. “I think there are too many of these devils, this time, Mel.”

  “Cenel Bearnas!” Melcorka yelled, staggering as a woman ducked low to slash at her legs while another jabbed at her eyes. Once the initial shock of Bradan's arrival wore off, the cat-women pressed hard. Fighting desperately, Melcorka and Bradan retreated to the lip of the pit, where the cats set up a hideous howling and raised their claws in expectation of food.

  “At least we're together.” Melcorka ducked, swung her hip and threw a cat-woman down to the ground.

  The rush came by surprise as the prisoners charged the flank of the cat-women, swinging their chains as makeshift we
apons.

  “That's the way!” Melcorka yelled. “Cenel Bearnas!” Grabbing the nearest cat-woman, she tore off her claws and slashed at the next.

  Faced by a renewed attack by Melcorka and with the unexpected assault by the ex-prisoners, the cat-women wavered, turned and fled, leaving Chattan alone, his instructions unheeded.

  “Fight them!” Chattan yelled. “Throw them to the cats.”

  Thrusting the end of his staff against Chattan”s throat, Bradan propelled him to the lip of the pit. Melcorka looked over the edge, where the king-cat was waiting.

  “You're an unpleasant sort of fellow,” Melcorka said. “But you did not kill Bradan.”

  “You're brave now,” Chattan jeered. “You won't be so brave when the Butcher comes back for you.”

  “Oh?” Melcorka pretended unconcern, although the mention of the name set her heart racing. She could not forget the humiliation of her defeat on the Bass Rock. “I didn't realise he was even gone.”

  “He'll be back,” Chattan said, “and then all of Alba and the Jarldom will rue they were ever born.”

  “I'll be ready for him,” Melcorka bluffed. “When is he coming back?”

  Chattan”s yellow eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You don't know, do you?” He looked over his shoulder at the waiting cats. “He won't be alone when he comes. If you promise not to kill me, I'll tell you more.”

  Glancing at Bradan, Melcorka nodded. “That”s a fair deal, Chattan. You tell me all you know, and I won't even hurt you.”

  “Do you promise?” Chattan asked.

  “You have my word of honour,” Melcorka relaxed her pressure, allowing Chattan to move forward a few inches. “I've no reason to kill you now that Bradan is alive.”

  Chattan gave a sickly smile. “The Butcher is touring all the lands of Cnut – that is Denmark, England and his other possessions – gathering a force of outlaws, mercenaries and cut-throats. He is going to invade Alba and the Jarldom and destroy everything.”

  Remembering the power of Legbiter, Melcorka imagined how much harm Erik could do with an army of the worst type of men. “Thank you, Chattan.”

  “What shall I do with him?” Bradan had the edge of his staff at Chattan”s throat.

  “When I thought you were dead,” Melcorka said. “I wanted to kill him. Now you are alive, he does not matter. Besides, I have given my word not to hurt him.” She stepped closer to Chattan. “I have one question for you – where is the Lord of Dun Dreggan?”

  “I already know that,” Bradan said.

  “Do you?” Melcorka said. “In that case, we'll leave Chattan to the mercy of these good people. We won't hurt a hair of his little feline head.”

  “I know where Defender is too,” Bradan probed inside Chattan's cloak and pulled out a bunch of keys. “Let's get her back.”

  “You can't leave me here,” Chattan said. “You promised I would not be hurt!”

  “Not so,” Melcorka said. “We promised not to hurt you, and we won't.”

  As they left the chamber, they heard the roar from the freed prisoners and Chattan's high-pitched scream of terror. The cats' howling rose to a new pitch.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “This way.” Bradan led at a fast jog. “Let's hope there are no cat-warriors here.”

  “Let's hope there are,” Melcorka said.

  Bradan grunted. “I see you're back to your normal peaceful self.”

  “I've had enough of this place,” Melcorka said.

  Astrid was at the door, wrestling with the lock. “You found her!” She seemed pleased. “I've been trying to get the sword so that I could help.”

  “Is that what you were doing?” Melcorka pushed Astrid roughly aside. “Let me see.” She looked at the lock, banging it with the heel of her hand.

  “Here.” Bradan tossed over the keys he had taken from Chattan. “Try these.” He looked over his shoulder, where a press of cat-warriors was approaching.

  The first key did not fit, nor did the second.

  “They're getting closer.” Bradan took up position between Melcorka and the warriors, although he felt that his staff was a poor weapon against spears. “Hurry it up, Mel!”

  The first spear whizzed past Bradan, to clatter against the stone wall. He ducked the second, and then the warriors were running towards him.

  “I'm in!” Melcorka said at last.

  Astrid was at her heels, with Bradan retreating to the door to try to delay the warriors for a few vital seconds. Lifting a spear, he threw it at the advancing warriors, only to see it bounce uselessly from the wall. The warriors slowed down when they saw Bradan was unarmed, smiling now, with spears raised, confident of an easy victory.

  “Ten to one? Come on, then!” Bradan challenged, hiding his fear, and then Melcorka was at his side, Defender in hand.

  “Stand aside, Bradan!” Melcorka said. “This is women's work.” Her laugh rose as she stepped towards the cat warriors. “Cenel Bearnas!” she shouted. “I am Melcorka the Swordswoman of the Cenel Bearnas!”

  The leading two cat-warriors were brave men. They stood to face this tall, dark-haired woman with the longsword and died for their courage. The second rank lasted a few seconds longer and then the cat-warriors were turning around in fear as Melcorka pushed forward, with Defender blocking spear-thrusts, slicing, hacking and killing.

  “Fight me!” Melcorka shouted. “Cenel Bearnas!”

  “Your woman is enjoying the killing,” Astrid said.

  “My woman has saved our lives,” Bradan replied.

  “As you saved hers.”

  “It is what we do,” Bradan said, as Melcorka stopped her pursuit and turned back, spattered with blood but grinning fiercely.

  “That's them chased away.” Cleaning Defender”s blade, Melcorka slid the sword back into its sheath. “Now we have to find the Lord of Dun Dreggan.”

  “Down that way,” Astrid gestured with her thumb.

  “I'm glad you came along.” Melcorka spoke with hardly any reluctance. “Lead on.”

  Lifting one of the spears, Bradan thrust it through his belt.

  “You are a man of peace,” Astrid said. “You do not need such a thing.”

  “I am still a man,” Bradan replied. “I won't let Melcorka fight alone if she needs help.” He ignored Astrid's look of mixed disappointment and anger.

  * * *

  The Lord of Dun Dreggan sat as they had left him, with his company of warriors around him and his cat-face strangely sad.

  “He does not look like a man who would awake a long-gone entity,” Melcorka said as they looked in from the shadows. “He looks like an aged giant, sunk in wine, mead and sloth.”

  “I thought the same,” Bradan said. “Except for his face. Is that a mask?”

  “Let's find out.” Melcorka unsheathed Defender. “Are you with us, Astrid?”

  “I am not a fighter,” Astrid said.

  “Then remain here,” Melcorka said. “Bradan and I have been in this sort of situation before.”

  Striding past the staring warriors, Melcorka approached the Lord of Dun Dreggan, who barely stirred in his chair.

  “I am Melcorka Nic Bearnas,” Melcorka said, “and I have questions for you.”

  “Ask, Melcorka Nic Bearnas,” The Lord of Dun Dreggan replied, still without moving.

  “Are you the leader of the warband that wakened the Cu-saeng from its slumber?”

  “I was Ivar the Strong,” the Lord of Dun Dreggan said. “I brought my men from Norway to the coast of Wessex and up to this cursed land.”

  Melcorka paused. It was not the reply she had expected. “Is this land cursed?”

  Ivar, the Lord of Dun Dreggan, looked up, with his face more like a cat than a human. “Can you see me, Melcorka Nic Bearnas? Can you see what I have become?”

  “I see a tall old man sitting on a throne,” Melcorka said, “and with the face of a cat. Where is Ivar the Viking warrior?”

  “I wish he were still here,” The Lord of Dun Dreggan sai
d. “Have you come to relieve me of my burden? I see you carry a mighty sword.”

  “I am seeking a book,” Melcorka said. “I seek the Book of Black Earth.”

  The name whispered around that bleak chamber, echoing and re-echoing until the solid rock seemed to groan with fear.

  “You do not want that book,” The Lord of Dun Dreggan said. “Every hour of every day, I regret even having found that ancient curse.”

  “Where is it?” Melcorka asked.

  “Gone.” When the Lord of Dun Dreggan shook his head, Melcorka was sure she saw tears in his yellow eyes. “It's gone, spreading the evil around.”

  “Is it not in this dun?” Bradan asked.

  “It was held here,” the Lord of Dun Dreggan said. “It was secure here, held imprisoned beneath the ground, with layer upon layer of human bones holding it down.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Picts built a holy place on top of it, with a holy book guarding a doorway and the bones of good people to contain the evil. Ivar the Strong led the raiders that killed the monks, and we were searching for Pictish gold, delving deeper and deeper into the foundations of the monastery.”

  “And?” Melcorka prompted.

  “We saw a holy book wedged in a doorway, embellished with precious stones, covered in gold, and we tore it free. Erik Egilsson was first through the door with his sword, Legbiter, in his hand. He ran down with me at his side.” The Lord of Dun Dreggan was crying openly now, great tears rolling from his eyes.

  Bradan and Melcorka stood side by side, listening to Ivar's story.

  “We expected great piles of treasure, gold and silver gathered over the centuries, but instead we found a room lined with human bones and a single black book in the centre of the floor.”

 

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